“There they are⁠ ⁠… bringing her, coming⁠ ⁠… There they are⁠ ⁠… They’ll be here in a minute⁠ ⁠…” voices were suddenly heard saying; and officers, soldiers, and militiamen began running forward along the road.

A church procession was coming up the hill from Borodinó. First along the dusty road came the infantry in ranks, bareheaded and with arms reversed. From behind them came the sound of church singing.

Soldiers and militiamen ran bareheaded past Pierre toward the procession.

“They are bringing her, our Protectress!⁠ ⁠… The Iberian Mother of God!” someone cried.

“The Smolénsk Mother of God,” another corrected him.